Requiem for the Innocent
by radioactivealchemist
Summary: I'd always fought the war in the shadows alone, hunting them though I was their kind - but I didn't want to be like them. I wanted to be normal. I wanted to have friends who accepted me and understood, and somehow I found them. 1x2; implied 3x4 & 6x9
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I stopped writing fanfics in 2005 after I graduated high school and only started writing them again recently. This is technically the last fanfic I wrote before my four-year hiatus. It started life as an original fic with the names changed; and even then, somebody recognized it and called me out on the similarities to Gundam Wing. So here it is, with the names changed back and a bit of editing (because let's face it, my writing _really_ sucked back then).

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I don't remember exactly how old I was when I started fighting them. I know I was young, probably six or seven, when my world was opened to the shadows and the war within them. Ever since I was small I knew there was something different about me, something that made me... not human. It wasn't until I discovered them that I knew what I was, but I was determined to be different. I wasn't like them. I detested them and their ways, and I longed to be like everyone else.

I chose to fight them because they represented everything I didn't want to be. The only alternative was becoming more like them, and that was out of the question. Forgetting the war existed and tuning my back on the shadows would have been impossible; they would have found me eventually.

They did find me, once; that was when I became aware of the other world, the world in the shadows, and they tried to make me like them. They forced it upon me, and I fought back with all my strength. I was rescued by a man who did not realize I was like them, who thought I was a human child. He drove them away, killed them, and took care of me. From him, I learned of the war.

I never knew his name. He left me the next night to find them again, to kill more of them, and he never came back. I still think of that man as my father, because it is the earliest memory I have of a person who cared for me. All my life I had lived on the streets, in the alleys and back lots of the dirty city I called home, and never once before meeting him did I wonder about who my parents were, or what I was doing in this world. Until that point I was a drifter, a thief, an orphan boy who slept wherever I could find a dry corner and fought to survive.

After I realized he wasn't going to come back, I left and went into the world with a new outlook on life. I had a purpose: to fight them, and in doing so affirm that _I was not like them_.

When I was eleven I was caught by a night patrol and taken to an orphanage. I can say my age then with certainty, because Father Maxwell and Sister Helen told me it was so, and they made that day my birthday so that I would feel welcome.

They were poor and didn't receive much funding, and the orphanage closed soon after I arrived and was turned into a church. All the children were placed into homes—all except me. None of the couples wanted to take me in, and I don't blame them for it. Deep down, I knew I wanted to stay with Father Maxwell and Sister Helen; maybe things would be easier then.

I think that Father Maxwell and Sister Helen knew I was different from the other children. I also think that they had become attached to me and didn't want to hand me over for adoption. For my part, I didn't want to go home with someone I didn't know. Maybe it was a combination of all of our wants and desires, or maybe it was just that no one cared. I stayed with Father Maxwell and Sister Helen, and helped them in all the ways I could while still struggling with my life in a world they knew nothing about.

Twice a week I would go out and join in the battle. I fought alone; I knew of no one else, and alone was fine for me. I didn't want to have to worry about someone getting in my way or slipping up and putting me in danger. Often I fought as one of them, and it confused them enough that I was able to finish quickly. Other nights, when the fear of being found out was strong, I kept to my human side and fought them with whatever weapon I had—more often than not the sword I had taken from the man's room.

I knew Father Maxwell and Sister Helen worried, but what could I do? I lived in my own world, separate from theirs. No matter what they did, no matter how often Sister Helen berated me gently while she cleaned my cuts and asked how I'd gotten them, no matter how often they told me they were at their wits end and how they feared I would end up a sinner in hell, I refused to believe in their god. I couldn't.

They didn't understand, and I didn't feel the need to elaborate. They would not have understood my reasons, because they didn't understand me. I didn't want to make them worry needlessly. I didn't want to bring them into the war that was raging out on the streets, fought in dark alleyways and in abandoned buildings, unknown to most of the world. It wasn't right to let them know. And above all, I didn't want to put them in danger. I didn't want them to die, and leave me all alone in the world again.


	2. Chapter 2

My night had been fairly successful; two of them dead, and I was mostly unhurt. Breathing hard, I wiped my sword in the grass to clean off the dark spots that marred the silver reflection of the blade. Seeing myself in that narrow strip of steel, I was reminded again of my differences—a deadly force in the dark, murdering in the shadows. It was a war, and I was just a lone fighter trying to stay alive.

Sliding my sword back into its sheath, I turned from the park and began the long walk back to the church through the spotted dusk of the street lamps. The moon was half-full, but hidden by clouds—too little light for me to chance taking a shortcut through the back streets.

Two blocks from the church, I ducked into an alley and made my way silently to the place where I hid my sword: above the crumbling ceiling tiles in an abandoned building that for a time had been a night club. It was where I went when I felt the need to get away from the preaching of Father Maxwell and Sister Helen, during the nights when I didn't venture out to fight. Once it was safely hidden from anyone who might stumble into the place while looking for a place to sleep, I returned to the street and continued on my way back to the place I called home.

"Duo! Where have you been, young man?"

I didn't reply immediately. They'd taught me not to lie, that lying was wrong, but I had to lie in order protect Father Maxwell and Sister Helen from my world. "Out with some friends." I tried to get past her, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor. It was no use; she stopped me, and with her gentle hands lifted my chin. She gasped as she looked at me in fright. I had learned long ago to ignore the pain, but the cuts still stung, and blood was running down my face and neck.

"You've been in a fight again," she said as she looked at me sadly. "Duo..."

"It's nothing. I fell down." It was partially true, but it wouldn't explain the two deep gashes. I'd neglected to hide them, thinking I would be able to sneak back to my room. I had been wrong. Sister Helen was perceptive tonight.

"Duo, don't lie! Come and let me clean you up."

I didn't like to see Sister Helen sad. She may have acted angry, but from experience I knew that she was saddened by how I distanced myself and never told her the things she thought she should know.

I followed her as she led me to the kitchen and sat me down. While she took the first aid kit she always kept handy for patching me up down from the shelf, I considered getting up and going to my room.

"You mustn't always be doing this, Duo," Sister Helen scolded as she returned and pulled a chair away from the table and sat facing me. I stayed silent as she cleaned my face. "You know we worry about you. Why do you insist on getting in so many fights? What if one day someone gets the best of you—then what would we do? Or what if you got in trouble with the police? You can't keep on doing this, Duo!"

I didn't say a word, not even when she was finished. She was used to my silence by now. I didn't know if it bothered her or not, but I had learned a long time ago that making excuses only upset her more.

Lying in my room that night, I wondered again if they might not be better off without me. I constantly doubted my existence. Maybe it was better if I didn't exist, but I had never found the courage to leave Father Maxwell and Sister Helen behind. It would feel too much like abandoning them. They had taken me in when I was young, rescued me from the world of the streets, and for that I was grateful even if I didn't show it.

At fifteen, I knew I had many more years ahead of me. I didn't relish the thought; it was only more years of fighting, more years of hiding the truth, more years of tears and pain. I wanted to change, badly, but I didn't know how.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey, mind if we sit here?"

I looked up. There were three boys. I had seen two of them before; they were in my grade, and in some of my classes, but I didn't really know them. I shrugged.

The blonde one, the one who had asked, sat down across from me; I remembered him from one class in particular, and he only stood out to me because his face was always so open and he was always smiling. His brown-haired friend sat next to him, and the last boy, whom I didn't recognize at all, sat down next to me.

"You're Duo, right? We're in the same math class?" The blonde asked. I nodded, although I didn't know his name. I never paid attention when roll was called. When I failed to answer with more than a nod, he smiled at me and introduced himself. "I'm Quatre." He gestured to the boy next to him. "This is Trowa, and that's Heero," he finished as he nodded towards the boy next to me.

I turned to look at Heero; he seemed to be studying me, and our eyes met for a moment. I looked away, embarrassed, and he leaned closer to me and said in a low voice, "We've seen you fighting them. Would you like to join us?" I understood, then. They were, if not _quite_ the same as me, at least working towards the same goal. "It's all right if you prefer to go it alone," he said in a normal voice, certain that no one who overheard would understand what he was talking about.

I shook my head. "I never known any other... I mean, I knew there _had_ to be, somewhere, but..." I looked up at Quatre and Trowa. To me, they didn't look like they could possibly know what it was like to fight them, but here they were saying that yes, they fought, and they wanted me to fight with them. I didn't know what to say.

"Will you, then?"

"I suppose... it would be easier with help," I admitted. The only thing I worried about was attachment. I didn't like losing people, and being left alone. I thought that maybe, this way, it would be better because I would be there, and I would be able to help. And that was why I agreed—that, and because I had no friends.

Father Maxwell and Sister Helen were always asking me why I never brought anyone to the church. They probably thought that I was too embarrassed, and I let them believe that when I stayed out late it was with "friends." In truth, I didn't want them to know I didn't have any. Now I found that it probably _would_ be embarrassing to let them find I lived in a church—never mind the thought of introducing them to Father Maxwell or Sister Helen. These three were like me, and Father Maxwell and Sister Helen would not understand.

"Are you okay?" Heero asked; he was leaning in close, and I could feel his warm breath on my ear.

I realized I had been spacing off a little, thinking about other things. "Are you... my friends, then?"

Quatre looked taken aback for a moment, but then he smiled. "Would you like us to be?"

I looked down at my lunch tray. "I've... I've never had any friends before."

This time all three of them looked a little bit shocked at my admission. Heero reached over and placed his hand over mine, startling me. I looked up at him.

"You do now."

I was... touched, if that's the right word for how I felt. These three, who didn't even know me, were inviting me to join their little group and they were accepting me solely on the basis that I was also a fighter in this war. I worried, though, because they didn't know what I was. I didn't know if there were any more... rebels. I didn't know if they would be _true_ friends, and understand my reasons, or if they would turn on me thinking that I was a spy. I tried to think of ways I could prove my loyalty, in case they ever found out—no, for _when_ they found out. Because it _would_ happen, no matter what. I couldn't hide it long from people were involved in the war.

I was of the shadows, and there wasn't anything I could do to change it.

When the bell rang, I went to take my tray back. The three of them followed me, and as I was leaving the cafeteria Heero stopped me. "Would you like to come to our place after school? To hang out?" I nodded.

"Then meet us out front after school. Trowa has a car," Quatre told me. I nodded again, silently, and turned to go to class. It seemed Quatre's class was in the same direction as mine, because he caught up with me. "Umm... Heero wanted me to ask you something for him. Don't take this the wrong way, but... he wants to know if you'd go out with him. Ever since he started coming to this school and saw you, he's had a crush on you. We didn't want him to get involved, because, well... but now it's okay, as long as you're okay with it."

I knew what he meant. None of them wanted to get involved with someone who wouldn't understand what they were doing. He continued on in his explanation as he leaned up against the locker next to mine while I got my books out.

"When we saw you, a week ago... he was really happy. But he's kind of shy, so he wanted me to ask you for him." And Quatre was, obviously, the type who spoke his mind. "Of course, if you're not interested that's fine too. I'm sure he'll get over it."

"I don't know."

"Hmm?" He looked over at me. "Don't know about what?"

"About... anything. I've never thought much about other people."

"You've never been in a relationship."

I shrugged; Quatre was perceptive. "I've just never thought about it."

He smiled. "That's all right. There's a first time for everything. If you don't like him, that's fine... but it would make him happy—and you too, I think. Of course, I don't know you, so I could be wrong. I think you're in the same position as he is, and it would be good for both of you. So think about it?"

Nodding, I closed my locker. Quatre smiled at me. "All right then. I'll see you later—out front. We'll be waiting!"


	4. Chapter 4

I had mixed feelings about 'hanging out' with the three of them, but they seemed a nice enough sort and they were on my side. They _understood_. I'd never known anybody before who understood. It was... strange... knowing they fought as well, went through the same things. I wondered if they had families who didn't know, or if they did, and how things worked. For the first time in a long time, I found myself excited, almost happy, anticipating being with them and not having to fight alone any longer.

It was a burden getting through my afternoon classes; I wanted school to end so I could go with them, talk about things that no one else knew that I had never been able to talk about with anybody else before. Finally, the bell rang. I'd never been in a hurry to leave school before, because I had to go back to the church, or I went to fight—neither which I anticipated. I thought about Heero, and that slowed my pace a little. I didn't know what I was going to say to him, whether I should say yes and go out with him or say no. From what Quatre had said and what I had seen he seemed nice. I didn't know how it would work out, though; I didn't like it when people were too close. I didn't even like it when Sister Helen hugged me, but I never told her that for fear that she wouldn't understand and would be sad.

I didn't want to upset anyone, especially not knowing how we stood. Perhaps it would be better to accept; maybe I would even come to like it, and Heero, and everything would be all right. I wanted badly for everything to be 'all right' in the end, in this messed-up world that we lived in.

When I had made up my mind and stepped outside, the three of them were already waiting for me. It felt nice, to know that they really meant it. No one had ever waited for me before, except Sister Helen, and I didn't think that counted.

Together, the four of us walked across the parking lot to Trowa's car, and piled in.

I was put in the back with Heero, and Quatre sat up front with Trowa. I hadn't been in cars very often; the church couldn't afford one, nor could I afford to always take the bus. Sister Helen always took it into town alone, once a week, because they couldn't afford an extra ticket for me to tag along and help her shop.

We drove to a part of town that I knew well, for I had ended up there often while out hunting. It only made sense for them to live where they fought, although it was. None of them—well, really just Quatre—looked the type to be a fighter in this war. I suppose, though, that I didn't look it myself. Trowa and Heero, on the other hand, had a sort of air about them that said they weren't afraid to take on anyone or anything.

It surprised me when Trowa stopped the car outside a building that I had assumed to be abandoned. It was a run-down six story concrete rectangle that didn't look inhabited. I reserved my judgment, though, because I had taken refuge in similar places when I still lived on the streets. Maybe it was nicer on the inside, and the abandoned look was only a front for their operation. It was a big building to house just the three of them, and I wondered if there were others living there too—others who fought.

"I know it's not much, but... I think you'll like it." Quatre smiled at me as I stared up at the building; he looked a little embarrassed, and I realized he had no idea what kind of background I came from.

I shook my head. "I'm sure it can't be worse than anywhere I've lived before," I told him, and then he looked a little sad. Maybe now he thought I lived on the streets. Maybe they all had, at one time or another. I didn't know anything about them, and they knew nothing about me. It was fair, so far.

"Come on." Heero put his hand on my shoulder and propelled me forwards, towards the entrance. I followed Trowa and Quatre inside, where we were greeted by a young man who had been reading a book.

"A new recruit?" he asked, eying me.

"He's fine, Wufei. We'll take him to Zechs later," Quatre answered. Wufei nodded and went back to his book without another word. "Don't mind him," Quatre said to me. "He's in a bad mood. Nobody likes door duty."

"You guard the door?"

Quatre nodded. "We're right on the edge of a big demon territory. We can't just let them waltz in. You can meet everybody later, but for now let's just get to know each other," he suggested, changing the subject, and headed towards the stairwell. "Our rooms are on the second floor, and we've got our own living room where we can hang out."

"Are there many people here?"

"There are twenty-one of us," Heero responded matter-of-factly.

"Floors three, four, and five are mostly empty. Six is where our 'headquarters' are, and there's a lookout on the roof at all times as well. The girls are on the ground floor, and guys are the second," Quatre explained. He led us to the stairs, and we went up to the second floor. The building had been fixed up nicely on the inside, and repainted with murals. It reminded me a little of the stained glass windows in the chapel, only there was no light streaming in through them. It was dark in the hall; there was only one window, at the far end, and it didn't seem like there were any lights. I was used to the dark, so it didn't bother me; at the church we used candles for light as often as we could to keep the electricity bill down. Trowa noticed how I was looking at the walls, even in the faint light.

"I painted them."

It seemed strange, moving through the dark hallway with other people around me. I hadn't thought I was claustrophobic, but there was just something about the hall that made me think I was surrounded. I wanted to lash out, to fight, but I contained it—I contained the urge, keeping it inside.


	5. Chapter 5

The living room was large and filled with comfortable-looking furniture. There was a pool table, and a TV, and in the far corner there was a small kitchen area. The floor was concrete, like the rest of the building, but there were rugs over most of it. It too had been painted by Trowa, and it didn't look half as shabby as it would have otherwise. Quatre pulled me over to one of the couches and sat me down next to Heero while Trowa sat down across from us. Quatre went over to the kitchen area, and brought back a bowl of trail mix to put on the table between us.

"What do you want to drink?"

"I'll take a Sprite," Heero answered; Trowa didn't say anything, so I assumed he either wasn't having a drink or Quatre already knew what he wanted.

"Just water," I said, not wanting to stretch their hospitality.

"Um, we don't have any. The water in the faucets isn't any good to drink. We've got Sprite, Pepsi, Diet Coke... lemonade, fruit punch." Quatre ticked the choices off on his fingers.

"I'll have a Sprite too, then." I hadn't had soda in such a long time—it was another thing we couldn't afford. I wondered how they fared; they lived in this run-down building, yet they could afford things. All of them had nicer clothes than me, for one. I got hand-me-downs and donations from the people who came to church. Christmas and my birthday were the only times I got _new_ clothes and whatever else Father Maxwell and Sister Helen could afford.

Quatre returned and handed everybody their drinks. The can was nice and cool, and wet with perspiration. I tried to open it, but I didn't have much in the way of fingernails and it was slippery. Heero, seeing that I was struggling with it, plucked the can out of my hands and opened it for me. He handed it back to me with what I saw as a hopeful-looking smile. I wondered if Quatre had told him yet what I had said, or if Heero was waiting for me to tell him myself—or if he even knew that Quatre had already asked.

If we were going to say anything to each other, neither of us got anything out because at that moment Wufei came into the room.

He strode in and went over to the refrigerator to grab a drink, then came over to our little circle and sat himself down in an empty armchair while popping open his can of soda. "You haven't properly introduced me."

Even just seeing him when I had come in, I knew I didn't like him at all. He seemed to be around the same age as Heero, Quatre, and Trowa, but I had never seen him at school—and if he had been here, keeping watch on the door, maybe he didn't go. He also seemed very... arrogant. Maybe it was just the tone of his voice; I couldn't pinpoint the exact reason. He just rubbed me the wrong way.

Quatre took charge. "Oh, that's right! This is Duo. Wufei, Duo."

"Nice to meet you, after seeing you."

I nodded and mumbled something that may or may not have been a greeting. Sometimes it was a good thing that people knew I was shy; they didn't expect as much of me then.

It was easier to get though life if I kept my head down and stayed out of the way. On the other hand, it wasn't very good for carrying on a conversation—not that I had ever needed to, except with Sister Helen. I was very open with her about general things, such as what I did at school and my grades. Other than that I wasn't a conversationalist, especially around people I didn't know. I tended to fold up, to stay quiet and in doing so hoped they would lose interest in me and go away.

There was an awkward silence for a moment after my muffled response, where no one seemed inclined to talk. Quatre, who couldn't seem to stand any sort of silence, eventually broke it.

"So, Duo..." It was easy to see he was desperately casting about for a suitable topic, not having thought of one before speaking. "Umm..."

I would have suggested something, were I inclined to talk. Wufei spoke up instead, saving Quatre the embarrassment of having nothing to say.

"So you fight them too. Have you been doing it long?"

I'd never tried to talk about the war with anybody, but this sort of general question I could easily deal with. "I... guess. For about six or seven years." They looked shocked.

"Duo...how old are you?" Quatre asked carefully.

"Fifteen. Why?" Quatre was counting under his breath, trying to work out the math of my age versus how long I said I'd been fighting. He seemed confused. "Is there something wrong with that?"

He looked up at me. "No, it's just that..." he shook his head. "Never mind."

I was a little disappointed; I had wanted to know why it shocked them to learn how long I had been fighting. Perhaps they were new to it. Or maybe they just couldn't imagine someone that young fighting such an enemy and still living to tell about it.

"Maybe we should go introduce him to Zechs," Heero suggested. Quatre looked relieved, and all agreed that it was the best thing to do next. I was curious; Quatre had mentioned "taking me to Zechs" when we had come in, and I wondered who he was. The way they spoke about him, and how they wished me to meet him, made me think that he was probably their leader or something similar.

We finished our drinks and headed back to the stairs, this time going all the way up to the roof. Wufei came with us, unfortunately, but there was nothing I could do about it. I didn't want to tell him I didn't like him, because that wouldn't be very nice, and I felt it wasn't right to just come out and say something like that to someone whom I didn't know; unlike Quatre, I wasn't the type to speak my mind.

As Wufei had said, Zechs was on lookout, so we had to go all the way up to the roof to find him. I had mixed feelings about meeting someone else again so soon. I wasn't a people person at all, and I was already starting to feel nervous—not a good sign. When I got stressed... I didn't want to think about what might happen. I didn't want to think about losing the friends I had just gained.


	6. Chapter 6

We reached the door that led out to the rooftop, and Trowa opened it. It was windy, and a little bit chilly even though fall was just beginning. We filtered out of the doorway, keeping close together and turning our faces away from the wind.

There were a man and a woman standing near the edge and talking to each other. I couldn't hear what they were saying over the wind, but the man's next word as he whirled around to face us and raised his gun at our group was perfectly clear: "_Demon!_"

I flinched, but the four around me were too surprised at the man's accusation that they thankfully didn't notice. It might have been the end of everything if they had.

"What are you talking about?" Quatre challenged, to my relief. I didn't know what to think; maybe he just said that to everyone who came, as a sort of test. I hoped. If not...

"What am I talking about? _What am I talking about?_ What are you _thinking_, letting a demon in here?"

I started to slowly back towards the door.

"He's not! He's the one we told you about—who we saw fighting them!" Quatre came to my defense again.

Zechs—because that's who I assumed he was—relaxed only a little bit. "Well, he's either a demon or he's been fighting them recently and has blood still on him, _which I doubt_." His tone of voice changed back to anger as he realized that I was backing away, and he brought the gun to bear on me again. "_Well?_"

I was at the door, which was still open; I bolted back down the stairwell, pulling the door shut behind me. I darted down to the fifth floor, keeping my wits about me enough to realize that the sixth floor was no good. I flung the door open and heard it slam shut behind me as I pounded down the dark, deserted hallway. Choosing a door at random, I struggled with the knob for a moment, nearly losing myself in my nervousness, but I got it open and slipped inside.

Safe for the moment, I slipped down to the floor and pressed my back against the door while I tried to calm myself down. It would be the end of everything if I became so stressed out that I could no longer control the change; they would kill me for sure.

The last straw was hearing footsteps in the corridor outside. I panicked; my back spasmed painfully and I crawled farther into the room, trying to find a place to hide. It was dark, the windows boarded over, and I couldn't see much of anything. My breath hitching as my back spasmed again, I paused in the middle of the room and managed to get my shirt off before I ruined it—if I did manage to somehow get out of this situation, I didn't want to worry about running home and having to explain to Sister Helen why my shirt was missing. Of course (and I didn't want to think about it), I might not be able to go back to the church. I might have to flee this place, get away from this city entirely.

Thinking about that pushed me over the edge; my back ripped open, revealing the sign of my demonhood. It was painful, but like the pain of regular injuries I had learned to ignore it. I couldn't explain the change—I don't think anyone could—but the moment of pain was the only suffering. The wounds healed immediately, like any other wounds a demon received; they were hard to kill because of it. I hoped that meant I would be hard to kill too, because I had never tested the truth of it on myself.

I heard the door opening, and froze. My demon-self had much better night vision, so I was able to see that there was another door. I lunged for it and slammed it shut behind me just as the door to the hall opened.

"Duo? I know you're in here."

It was Heero; I breathed just a little bit easier. With him, maybe I had a chance of getting out safely. I heard him feeling around in the dark, and then his hand on the doorknob to the room I was in, turning it. I darted into the far corner, hoping that he wouldn't see me—a hopeless wish, because I knew he would be able to hear the sound of my ragged breathing.

"Duo?" he whispered as he pushed the door open. "Please, don't be upset. Zechs is just an asshole, he didn't mean anything by it."

I almost wanted to laugh, but I was too scared. So Heero thought that I had just ran because I was upset? That was fine, as long as he didn't realize the truth. I watched him as he carefully made his way over to my corner and dropped to his knees, reaching out for me. I was too scared to move, so I let his hands find me, let him wrap his arms around me—not caring what he would think as his hands encountered the wings protruding from my back.


	7. Chapter 7

I closed my eyes as I felt him touch them, felt his fingers brush the skin at their bases and trace them upwards, away from my back. I tried to hold the tears in, but they came out in a rush; I was crying now, ashamed of what I was. "_I'm sorry... I'm sorry..._" I sobbed over and over again; I expected him to push me away, or kill me, or something. Anything save what he did do, which was to pull me closer. I let him, because I didn't know what else to do—what was I _supposed_ to do? I didn't know what to make of it, so I let him hold me close without saying anything. With my face pressed up against his shoulder, I could hear his heartbeat in the dark; I could tell he was scared, or worried, or... I didn't know. I didn't want to know.

I hesitated a moment, then put my arms around his waist. It was so different from any hugs I'd had before, whether from Sister Helen or anyone else. I found myself liking it. I like the way it felt, with his arms loose around me and my face pressed against his shoulder. I was scared of how it made me feel, but at the same time it felt good, and I didn't want his to let me go. I felt _safe_. I didn't want that to change, I didn't want anything to happen to that feeling.

"It's okay," he whispered in my ear, but I could hear his voice shaking when he said it, and his hands shaking as he pulled me even closer to him.

No, everything wasn't okay, it would never be; and it was all because of me, it was all my fault. I wanted to tell him as much, but the words caught in my throat and came out as another choked sob. I clung to him like he was my lifeline; and in a way, he was—and I think he realized that, because he started trying to calm me down.

Wanting the same thing, I tired to think about other things, calming things. If I wasn't calm and in control of myself then I wouldn't be able to find the concentration needed to push my demon-self back down, back inside. If I could do that, then maybe everything would be all right—maybe no one would notice, would think I had just gotten overly upset; and if Heero would help me with that lie...

After thinking about such things I managed to stop my sobs and hitching breaths, if not my tears. I relaxed against Heero, trusting him to hold me up—and he did, waiting quietly while I fought the momentary pain and pulled my demon-self back inside, crushing it down into the depths and locking it there for as long as I needed to keep it hidden.

Afterward, Heero didn't say anything to me. I managed to stop crying and get a hold of myself enough to push him away, and he didn't try to stop me from doing so. He stood up, and offered me his hand; I took it, and he pulled me to my feet. With his arm around my waist he walked me back down to the second floor—I was glad that there was no one on the stairs—and back to their living room which was still deserted. He led me over to one of the couches, and sat down beside me; and even then he just looked at me for a long time before saying anything. In any other circumstances his gaze would have made me uncomfortable, but I was too exhausted, both mentally and physically, to care much about it.

"Why do you fight them?"

I wasn't surprised at his question; it was understandable. He and his friends had seen me fighting and they had assumed I was just like them: another human trying to beat back the shadows. Why _wouldn't_ he ask me why I fought them, if I were one of them? I felt the tears threatening again as I thought about my answer, and I looked down at my lap, and my hands. Heero reached over and laid his hands on top of mine.

"I..." Underneath his hands, mine curled into fists. "I-I'm not like them. I don't want to _be_ like them... I want to... to..." His hands tightened over mine, silently tell me that it was all right, that I should try to continue. "I just want to be... to be normal, like everybody else. I never asked for this; I don't... I don't even want it. I just want everything to end, to be all right... in the end. I'm sorry... sorry that..."

I couldn't go on, but I think he understood what I was trying to say because he let go of my hands and moved closer to me, wrapping his arms around me again; and again, I let him—because what else could I do?

"It's all right. I understand."

Those words made my day—no, made my entire _life_, my existence—worthwhile, because I knew he was telling the truth. Just two simple words: "_I understand_."


	8. Chapter 8

Quatre and Trowa eventually found us, although it was more of an accident because they had given up on looking for me. I think they seemed to realize something was not quite right, but they didn't come out and say it in so many words. Like Heero had done before seeing the proof, they just chalked up my reaction as self-defense and the stress of being accused of being that which I fought. They also realized whatever had gone on between Heero and I was just between us, and they didn't ask about it—but I caught Quatre smiling faintly at us when he thought I wasn't looking.

"Zechs is just a little on edge, since the demons have been becoming bolder about attacking us lately. It doesn't mean anything. He's... a little odd, anyway—he can sense them, but he misses sometimes and now it's obvious that he can be mistaken," Quatre told me in an effort to cheer me up—I was no longer crying, but my eyes were still red and it was easy to tell that I had been.

"Yeah, Zechs is just a weirdo," Trowa said. Quatre, seeming to disagree with his statement, smacked him lightly on the side of the head and he fell over in a pantomime of having been hit hard. If I hadn't still been so upset and nervous, I probably would have laughed—it was the kind of things friends did, trying to cheer each other up, and now I was their friend too. I didn't have to look on from afar and wish that I wasn't so alone, that I had friends like them.

I wondered about Quatre and Trowa, too—how they always seemed to be near each other. It seemed to me they were almost complete opposites, yet they managed to gravitate towards each other when they were in the same room. I supposed the same thing could be said about Heero and me as well, how we were so different from each other. We weren't the same at all, at least according to what I knew about him (which wasn't much at all). I wondered how he could have liked me from afar, without knowing what I was like—or even what I was.

It seemed strange to me, to like someone that you didn't know. Perhaps I just didn't understand, having never liked someone from afar as Heero had. I knew that lots of people had said I was good-looking; Sister Helen had often called me handsome although I couldn't bring myself to agree. Maybe I just didn't see things the same way as other people—another thing that made me different.

My whole life, all I'd ever wanted to be was the _same_. I realized that it was a stupid wish, but I wanted things to be different. I wanted a real family, with a mother and a father and a nice house. I wanted to be a normal kid, unaware of the war that was raging in the shadows. I wanted regular friends; I wanted school to be the only thing I had to worry about. A life where I wouldn't have to fight.

I knew I really didn't have to, but it was the choice I had made and had never gone back on; and now, sitting on a worn couch in a cozy room with friends and Heero's arms around me, I knew I'd made the right choice after all.

Heero, Quatre, and Trowa did their best to cheer me up, but the mood was ruined again when Wufei returned. He wasn't quite as nice about it as they were.

"You know, running like that would make anyone think his accusation was truth," he pointed out as he leaned up against the door frame, saying it over my head like I wasn't even there.

"Don't say that!" Quatre replied angrily, jumping to his feet. It was nice, knowing they were there to defend me. I'd always had to stand up for myself before, and I wasn't any good at it—I would just take the abuse, and then go hunting and let my anger and sorrow out on the demons. It worked wonders for keeping me sane in a world as messed-up as mine. Heero pulled me closer, trusting Quatre to take care of it—he was like the spokesperson for their (mine now, too) little group.

"I'm just saying, is all," Wufei replied, and, to my relief, left.

Quatre relaxed. "Don't listen to him. He's just as stuck-up as Zechs." He paused for a moment, then changed the subject to something lighter. "Umm... so, you want to stay for dinner?"


	9. Chapter 9

I did stay for dinner; we ate in the living room, not in the dining room which Quatre said was downstairs and was where everybody usually ate. I felt more comfortable eating with just them, and I think they realized that. The meal was simple, but still better than the fare at the church; I tried to eat a lot at school so I wouldn't have to worry about not having much at home, even though Father Maxwell and Sister Helen pressed me to eat more than them, saying I was still a growing boy and they didn't need as much. It made me feel a little bit guilty, and I was glad to stay and eat with the three of them. I hoped that if everything turned out all right, I would get to eat with them a lot, and save myself the guilt.

"Do you need a ride home?" Trowa asked me as he cleaned off the table. I felt useless; they had insisted I didn't need to help clean up because I was their guest.

"I can walk."

"But I though you said you lived all the way across town." He had me there; I had told them approximately where I lived, but not that I lived in a church. On some level I was ashamed to let them know that, even though I didn't know why. It wasn't usually something I worried about.

"Just let him take you home!" Quatre scolded me with a smile, and I was forced to accept.

Heero left his post at the sink, dried his hands, and came over to give me a hug. "Take care. See you tomorrow." I nodded as I hugged him back, and as I looked over his shoulder I caught Quatre smiling at us again. He seemed happy that everything seemed to work out between us, even though I hadn't really accepted—it was just one of those things which had managed to happen.

Trowa picked up his jacket from the back of the couch, checking the pockets to make sure his keys were there. "Come on, then."

There was a small, fairly nice neighborhood about six blocks away from the church, and I told Trowa to just let me off at the end of one of the streets. He wouldn't hear of it.

"Which house?"

"I can walk." It wasn't that I was stubborn; I just, for some reason, didn't want to lie to him—although I also didn't want him to discover the truth.

"If this isn't where you live, that's fine," he said finally. "I just want to make sure you get home okay. Heero would kill me if I told him I just dropped you off at the end of a street and drove away."

I thought about just getting out of the car, since he was sitting at a stop sign, but I felt that might be pushing it a little so I stayed in the car and debated what to do. In the end, I gave in and directed him to the church. He didn't say anything as I got out and entered through the side door.

I rested inside the door for a moment, trying to calm myself down in preparation for the verbal attack I knew would come from Sister Helen as soon as she caught me sneaking back. After thinking about it, I found I didn't want to tell her about my new friends after all—especially about Heero. I hadn't given it a thought before, since I didn't practice their religion, but I remembered that Catholics tended to frown upon any sort of a relationship which wasn't between a man and a woman. I didn't know if what existed between Heero and I counted as a "relationship," but I didn't want to test it with Father Maxwell and Sister Helen in case they disapproved. It was easier to just avoid talking about it at all.

I thought about it a bit longer, and then opened the door and slipped back out before Sister Helen even realized I had come in. I didn't feel like confronting her just yet, and I felt the need to take out some of my aggressions—mostly what I felt towards Wufei and his "holier-than-thou" attitude, and also a little towards Zechs and his accusations.

Not caring that it was dark and that taking the shortcut through the back alleys might be dangerous, I went that way anyway to save time. As I went, I considered where I would go for the hunt. Back to the other side of town was out of the question; I didn't know how often any of them went out and I didn't want to risk running into Wufei or Zechs—or any of the others, if I got angry enough to lose my control again and change.

I arrived safely at the abandoned club, and retrieved my sword from its hiding place. Strapping it to my waist and securing it there, I returned to the alley and started wandering randomly until I settled on a specific direction and broke into a jog.


	10. Chapter 10

I didn't have much luck at first, because I'd chosen a direction which didn't take me to any of their large territories. The most I was likely to find was a loner, or one venturing too far out.

After about an hour of searching, I sensed one. Like Quatre had claimed Zechs could sense them, I could as well—because, as much as I tried to deny it, they were my kind. I wondered how Zechs did it, but then realized it would be extremely hard for humans to tell them apart; of course they had to have some way of sniffing them out, or they wouldn't be able to hunt. It was probably some rare and highly prized skill that was genetic, but I didn't waste my thoughts thinking much about it.

The demon, unfortunately, was walking with a group of regular humans. I knew she had to know I was there, but they never worried about my presence unless I entered the central part of one of their territories.

It wasn't until I got close enough that I realized who was walking with her—Zechs, Wufei, and the woman Zechs had been talking to on the roof. I could see the faint lines which denoted a shoulder holster under Zechs' jacket, which most likely meant that they knew the girl was a demon and were stalking her in plain sight. I couldn't tell if Wufei had any weapons, but then again I didn't know if he preferred something other than a gun; and I wasn't sure whether the woman was armed or not.

Just then, I sensed another one of them. If Zechs noticed at all, he didn't give any outward sign of it, and I made the decision to assume he hadn't noticed. For the time being, I decided to ignore the other demon and follow the one in the group, to see how they handled it.

After a moment, it occurred to me that if Quatre had said Zechs' ability to sense them sometimes failed, it was possible they didn't realize the girl was a demon. Perhaps they had found her walking along after dark, while they were out hunting, and had offered to walk her home. In that case, they might be caught off-guard. To me, the presence of a second demon keeping out of sight signaled that they were planning an ambush. Demons were perceptive—I, of all people, knew that fact especially well—and it was entirely possible that the two demons knew the three were hunting them, and had turned their roles around: becoming the pursuers instead of the pursued.

I changed my decision, and decided to take out the second demon; it might provoke the girl into attacking, and then they could take care of her. It would be a wonderful way to prove to them that I wasn't a demon (never mind that I actually was), and that I was on their side.

The demon was up on the rooftops, following them; I would have to find a way up, or try to lure it down. I didn't want to risk changing and have Wufei and Zechs—and the woman I didn't know—finding out the truth about me.

I turned into an alley—I had been following them at a safe distance after watching them pass by from the mouth of a different alleyway—and found a fire escape that I was able to climb up. I gained the roof of the building after a minute's time, hoping that I hadn't made enough noise to alert anybody to my presence—especially the three, because I couldn't really help the fact that the demons could sense where I was. I had a vaguely funny thought: what if Zechs could still sense me? If I was lucky, perhaps he would mistake me for the second demon—who had just paused upon sensing that I was now on the roof, and was turning around. I drew my sword, and waited for him to come to me.

They were always ready for a fight; he lunged for me, and I darted out of the way. He had the advantage, because of his wings, and could move faster in the air than I could on the ground. However, I had experience fighting such unbalanced battles, and he was confused because he knew that I was also a demon.

He didn't waste any breath asking me about it, and I didn't taunt him—it wasn't my style, I preferred the silent fights. It was easier when I didn't have anything to distract me from hearing his wings, especially when he was behind me or overhead. He dropped to the roof, thinking that I would be easy or that it was all a misunderstanding, but it was his loss because I switched to the offence, slashing at him. He backed away and stumbled, not having the time to get airborne, and I took him down with a practiced thrust between his ribs.

Just so the girl got the message, and so the three of them were alerted in case they hadn't known, I kicked the demon over the edge for good measure—he wasn't quite dead, and a good four-story fall would finish off even the best of them. I watched him fall; and as he hit the ground all four of them turned to see what had caused the muffled thud of a body hitting hard concrete (the girl knew with certainty what had gone on, but still needed to see the outcome). She looked up and saw me; Wufei looked up also, but I don't think he recognized me from such a distance. I nodded at them and disappeared from the edge just as the girl lashed out at Zechs, but I didn't need to stick around to see—I wanted to get down there and assist if needed. Either way, my hatred for the demons outweighed my dislike for Wufei and Zechs.


	11. Chapter 11

By the time I managed to get back down the fire escape and back on to the street their fight with the girl demon was almost finished; as I emerged from the alleyway she went down in a small flash of silver from Wufei's hand—a dagger. The woman had stood by and watched, and Zechs hadn't even drawn his gun. He had a scratch on his arm, though, from holding the demon still so Wufei could get a clear strike. As he let go of her and she fell to the ground, her wings disintegrating—a curious but useful property which prevented the general populace from discovering their presence—they heard my footsteps and turned to look at me.

Zechs gave me the once-over, and then nodded. "Sorry about earlier—even I can be wrong sometimes." Good—he was going to be civil about it. I accepted his apology with a nod, and decided to stop wondering about whether he still sensed me as a demon.

"Sorry," Wufei muttered as well, but he didn't seem as happy or sincere about it.

Things were easier to take when I was hunting; I was almost a different person then, because my passion for wiping them out gave me more self-assurance. For Wufei, I reserved a shrug. "It's all right. I just got freaked out a little."

Zechs nodded in understanding. "It was a big accusation—I should have expected that you would run, because you didn't seem the type to put up a fight about it." Apparently, he could see that I was much more in control of myself at the moment and that if he had accused me again I might not have been so forgiving.

Ignoring them for a moment, I bent down to wipe my sword on a small patch of grass surrounding a stunted tree that was planted in front of the building I had pushed the demon off of, and then sheathed it. Wufei, as if to show his superiority, took a white handkerchief out of his pocket and cleaned his dagger on that before putting it back. The handkerchief he dropped unceremoniously into the gutter. I pretended that I hadn't noticed, and he looked a little miffed.

The woman, who hadn't said anything up until this point, stepped forwards. "Thank you for your assistance. I don't think we've been properly introduced. I'm Lucrezia." She held out her hand to me, but I neglected to shake her hand. She didn't seem at all perturbed, but instead withdrew her hand like she'd never offered. I wondered who, exactly, she was; she seemed more aloof than Wufei, but there was coolness there—nothing like Wufei's flaming arrogance. Since she had been talking with Zechs the first time I had seen her, and she held herself the same way, I assumed that she was probably something like second-in-command or at least his confidant—or even his wife, perhaps.

She stepped back again, and Zechs took over. "Well, since you're obviously not a demon, you're more than welcome to join us if you choose to do so. I do usually test new recruits out, and since I think this can be counted as such you've passed my inspection."

Again, I nodded. "Thank you, but I don't know... I'm used to working alone."

"That's understandable. There's no pressure."

I mulled over my answer. "I suppose... I'll think about it." I had every intention of accepting, but I didn't know whether he would want me to leave Father Maxwell and Sister Helen and come live at their residence. I would have to ask Quatre or Heero about it—I didn't want to leave, but I knew that I would have to eventually, if only to protect them.

Zechs nodded, and I turned and left.

Sister Helen caught me again as I came in, but I was ready to face up to her.

"Duo..." she threatened, knowing that I knew what was to come.

I looked up at her. "I was hanging out with friends," I told her with a smile. She looked shocked for a moment, and I brushed past her and went to my room—not caring that my sword was still strapped to my waist, but I didn't think she had noticed it. Father Maxwell and Sister Helen had a tendency to be wonderfully blind in the places where it counted most.

I untied my sword and laid it on my bed while I undressed, then stared at it for a moment before slipping it underneath my bed. I'd never brought it into the church before. I knew that it meant things were changing—no, they _had_ changed, and all in the space of a single day.

I knew I would leave them, and go with Heero, but I still wanted them to understand. If Trowa had told Heero and Quatre where I lived, then I supposed it wouldn't matter if I invited Heero over and introduced him to Father Maxwell and Sister Helen. Perhaps that they would be so shocked that it would cover my leaving, or perhaps they would be so upset that they would want me out—although I hoped they cared about me enough to not do the latter.

I went to bed imagining how it might turn out, and making plans for tomorrow.


	12. Chapter 12

The next day was Friday, and school could not have gone by any slower. I saw Heero once in the hallway, but I was running late to class and couldn't stop to talk with him. I was forced to wait until lunch to ask him... and I found myself extremely nervous as I sat down and waited for him to find me. Quatre and Trowa arrived, only to sit down and tell me that he had a test to make up and wouldn't be down for lunch.

The agony of getting through the rest of the day was terrible, and it being Friday only made it worse. I wondered what the four of us—or the two of us, Heero and me—would do over the weekend. I'd never had the experience of doing anything with anybody else over the weekend, except for when I was younger and Sister Helen would take me to play at the park on Saturday afternoons.

And of course, I wanted to ask Heero if he would come to the church with me tonight. The murals on the walls had reminded me of the stained glass, and I thought it might be nice to sit with Heero in the chapel and watch the colors change as the sun set. I did it often, alone, and there was really nothing else I knew of that we could do. I didn't know if it was suitable, or if he would even like it, but I was determined to ask.

When the bell rang at the end of the day, I rushed out like everybody else. Heero was waiting for me along with Quatre and Trowa, and as we walked out to Trowa's car I lagged behind and made Heero slow to wait up for me. I stopped him, and awkwardly asked my question.

"Would you... did Trowa tell you where I lived?" I felt it was best to ask that first, just to know where I stood. Heero nodded. "Okay. Then... would you—would you like to come over? Tonight? Umm... j-just you?"

He smiled at me. "Sure. You want Trowa to take us there now?"

I nodded. "That would be... great." I didn't know what was wrong with me, but the words were catching in my throat more than I intended them too.

Heero held my hand as we walked the rest of the way across the parking lot, only letting go so I could get in the other side of the car while he talked to Trowa. When he slid into the seat beside me, he took my hand again and held it for the rest of the ride.

When we arrived at the church, the three of them were hard-pressed not to stare. Trowa had only seen it in the dark, and it had been hard to tell how run-down it looked. I tried not to be self-conscious about it, and they helped me by not saying anything. Heero and I got out, and I watched as they drove away before leading Heero around to the side door. I knew Father Maxwell and Sister Helen would be preparing for evening mass, even though no one ever came here except a few older people on Sundays. It was good that they did, though, because that meant I would not have to be sneaky about leading Heero to my room.

Sunset wasn't until around six thirty, so we had plenty of time to hang out until then. I explained to him about Father Maxwell and Sister Helen, and told him about encountering Zechs and company the previous night. He seemed happy that I was going to come and live with them, and his happiness rubbed off on me.

Father Maxwell and Sister Helen knew that sometimes I did come back early to watch the sunset in the chapel, and because no one ever came for evening mass they left it for me—knowing that I liked to enjoy it alone, although today I had someone to share it with. At a quarter after, we sneaked into the chapel—almost being caught as we passed the kitchen, but Sister Helen thought it was just me and greeted me through the half-closed door.

Once in the chapel, I shut the doors so we would not be interrupted and led Heero up to the steps where we sat down.

"So what were you going to show me?" he asked, looking around. I had told him that it was to be a surprise, and I hoped that he was at the very least appreciative that I had tried to do _something_ nice for him.

"You'll see," I murmured as he inched closer and slid his arm around my waist. I leaned into him. "So... you're not upset about what happened yesterday?" I didn't really want to know, but I was curious if he still cared—of course, if he hadn't wanted to see me again he wouldn't have stayed with me afterward, and he certainly wouldn't have come here with me, alone.

"No. I... I know you're not like them. You're better than that."

I scooted closer to him and rested my head on his shoulder. "Thank you."

The sun's fading light pierced through the windows, illuminating the chapel in brilliant colors like the windows were a huge prism. The dirty grayish carpet which had once been white was turned into a mosaic of colors, echoing the patterns in the glass. The colors moved for a moment, and then disappeared with the setting of the sun as silently as they had appeared.

I looked up at Heero, to see what he had thought; he was smiling, so I knew I had done the right thing in sharing it with him.


	13. Chapter 13

When we came out of the chapel, Sister Helen was waiting for me. Seeing Heero with me left her almost speechless, but she kept her wits about her enough to invite him to stay for dinner. I didn't argue with her, since Friday nights we had more to eat than usual to make up for the rest of the week.

After introducing Heero to both Father Maxwell and Sister Helen, we sat down to dinner. Father Maxwell and Sister Helen had their work cut out for them, grilling Heero on how he had come to know me, how long we had known each other, and so on. Thankfully, Heero was good at twisting the truth and he also gave them some outright lies to protect me. I began to like him—and appreciate him—even more than before.

When dinner was over, I pried Heero away from Father Maxwell and Sister Helen and we went back to my room. I had loosened up considerably after seeing that Father Maxwell and Sister Helen approved of his being my friend, and that he didn't mind their questions. Still, I think he was glad to be back alone with me.

Like I had explained to him beforehand about moving, I told him that I wanted to get out as soon as possible so that I wouldn't have time to think about it and change my mind. He seemed to understand my reasons, and after calling Trowa to come and pick us up he helped me pack up what little I had. It all fit into my backpack and two medium-sized boxes.

Sitting together on my bed after we finished, waiting for Trowa, we planned out how we were going to sneak the boxes out. After making our master plan, I helped Heero get past Father Maxwell and Sister Helen so he could go outside and wait for Trowa.

I waited patiently inside for him to return. When he did, I sat him back down with Father Maxwell and Sister Helen so they could finish their questioning of him—while I took everything out to Trowa's car. On my first trip, I took out my backpack, sword, and the lighter of the two boxes.

"What's with the box?"

When he called, Heero hadn't explained to him that I would be sneaking out. "I'm leaving. Zechs invited me to join you," I told him. He looked surprised, not knowing the whole story, but accepted it. "I've just got one more box, and then I'll get Heero and say goodbye."

He nodded, and I went back inside to get the last box. Heero's distraction was working to perfection, and I got the second box out too without a hitch. When I returned, I went back to the kitchen where Heero and Father Maxwell were talking while Sister Helen finished washing the dishes. Heero knew his cue, and started to wrap up the conversation.

"It's been nice meeting you, but it seems my ride's here," he said, looking up at me as I nodded. He and Father Maxwell both stood up, and shook hands.

"And it's been nice meeting you too, young man. Have a care in the dark, and may God be with you."

"Drop by again, won't you?" Sister Helen added, turning to wave to him.

"I will," he promised, although I knew it would probably turn into a lie. He walked up to me, and I turned and walked with him to show him out.

"Tell Trowa to wait for me," I whispered to him at the side door, and he nodded and went out. I closed the door and took a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment to relax before I went to say my goodbyes.

Sister Helen was drying the dishes when I came back, and Father Maxwell was sitting at the table listening to the news on the radio.

Standing in the doorway, I took another deep breath. "I'm leaving."

Sister Helen looked up. "What?"

"I said, I'm leaving."

She set the plate she was drying down carefully. Father Maxwell looked up and turned off the radio. "What?" she asked again, but I knew she had heard me.

"I'm going to go, I'm going to move out. I know you've taken care of me all this while, and I haven't exactly been the most grateful, but I have my reasons and I hope you'll understand. Goodbye."

Without another word, and without waiting for their reply, I turned and left.


End file.
